<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Medieval on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/tags/medieval/</link><description>Recent content in Medieval on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sat, 30 May 2026 20:13:47 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/tags/medieval/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Homecoming 7: Arietta's Turn</title><link>/stories/2017/10/21/homecoming-7-ariettas-turn/</link><pubDate>Sat, 21 Oct 2017 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2017/10/21/homecoming-7-ariettas-turn/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="homecoming6.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Homecoming 6: Silent Witness&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Authors note: This is a standalone story featuring characters from &lt;a href="https://boundstories.net/storiesek/homecoming.html"&gt;Homecoming&lt;/a&gt;
Part 7: Arietta&amp;rsquo;s Turn&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;Mother, do I have to?&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Isolda sighed softly. How can it be, she thought, that I can rule and entire kingdom, yet I can&amp;rsquo;t seem to get through to my own daughter? Maybe the old ways really are best.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;Etta,&amp;rdquo; she said softly, &amp;ldquo;it&amp;rsquo;s not like I&amp;rsquo;m asking you to do anything difficult.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Bones In The Dungeon 8</title><link>/stories/2017/05/07/the-bones-in-the-dungeon-8/</link><pubDate>Sun, 07 May 2017 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2017/05/07/the-bones-in-the-dungeon-8/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="bonesinthedungeon7.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Bones In The Dungeon 7&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 8: Final Betrayal Part One&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I slept well with the self satisfying feeling that I had done the right thing, despite my regrets at trapping the devious bookworm in the cell next to mine for all eternity. My former ghostly dungeon master had recovered my magical book from it&amp;rsquo;s hiding place in the palace library on Halloween, the one day of the year when he could, and it was with this that I freed the real Beth Eckhart and trapped the bookworm whose body I claimed for myself. She had earned her fate with how badly she had treated me, and her revealed true intentions to steal the castle and it&amp;rsquo;s wealth for her own purposes. Henry would never know how close he came to loosing his family estate, nor of my many torments with the effects of the magical seal put on my tongue by the oath I foolishly made to the bookworm in her Beth Eckhart persona.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Homecoming</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/homecoming/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/homecoming/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Part One&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;At long last, the day had arrived. In the palace, men cursed and sweated as they moved heavy, ornate furniture, while women and girls dashed about, cleaning and dusting nearly anything that wasn&amp;rsquo;t moving. In the kitchen, the great ovens, cold for the first time in years, now echoed with the sounds of shovels and rakes removing piles of ash and partially burnt wood. Over all hung the smells of cleaners and fresh paint.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Homecoming 2</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/homecoming-2/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/homecoming-2/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="homecoming.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Homecoming&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Part Two&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;Are you harmed?&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Sabelina shook her head slightly, barely moving her mane of raven hair. &amp;ldquo;You?&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Isolda&amp;rsquo;s head shook just as slightly. &amp;ldquo;These ropes are very tight, though.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Isolda sat at the base of a tree, her ankles crossed and bound together with rough cord. With her arms bent behind her and bound forearm to forearm, she could only squirm fitfully. Sabelina wore identical bonds, as did Emeric. Emeric, however, remained clothed, while the two women sat naked.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Homecoming 3</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/homecoming-3/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/homecoming-3/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="homecoming2.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Homecoming 2&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Part Three&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;With their bonds removed, the three captives rode with somewhat greater comfort, despite the swaying of the wagon. After a time, Isolda dozed off. From the other seat, Emeric watched as she lay with her head pillowed in Sabelina&amp;rsquo;s lap. There was a strangely gentle look in Sabelina&amp;rsquo;s eyes as her hand gently stroked the other woman&amp;rsquo;s hair.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;Your Highness&amp;hellip;.&amp;rdquo; Sabelina glanced up, her eyes suddenly flashing. At this, Emeric paused. &amp;ldquo;You seem to care for her greatly,&amp;rdquo; he finally said.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Homecoming 4</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/homecoming-4/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/homecoming-4/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="homecoming3.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Homecoming 3&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Part Four&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;Are we safe here?&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Instead of answering, Balian gazed around him. In the two days since the rescue, the party had crept on foot through the forests, avoiding Uthrancian patrols. Only a few hours had passed since they had crossed the border into wild, unsettled northern Iznia. Throughout, Balian had kept his men on the alert, refusing to relax his guard even once they&amp;rsquo;d crossed the border. Now, after a careful examination of the area, he finally turned his attention to Sabelina&amp;rsquo;s question.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Homecoming 5</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/homecoming-5/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/homecoming-5/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="homecoming4.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Homecoming 4&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Part Five&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;What now?&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Emeric stood over the body of the dead soldier, captured sword clenched in one fist. Blood oozed from a deep slash on his arm as he gazed across the body toward Balian.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;Now,&amp;rdquo; Balian replied, &amp;ldquo;you run. Landsedge Farm is that way. Take the women, keep them safe. We&amp;rsquo;ll see about giving you the time to get there.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;From where they stood, the sounds of fighting grew louder, Uthrancian soldiers forcing Balian&amp;rsquo;s small force to fall back. Close by, disheveled and clutching their own bloodstained blades, Sabelina and Isolda stood panting. Their running battle, which by now had lasted nearly an hour, had spared none of them.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Homecoming 6: Silent Witness</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/homecoming-6-silent-witness/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/homecoming-6-silent-witness/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="homecoming5.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Homecoming 5&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Authors note: This is a standalone story featuring characters from &lt;a href="https://boundstories.net/storiesek/homecoming.html"&gt;Homecoming&lt;/a&gt;
Part 6: Silent Witness&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;Think you&amp;rsquo;ll be able to keep up this time?&amp;rdquo; Seated comfortably in her saddle, the willowy blonde grinned at her companion.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;I&amp;rsquo;ll show you keep up,&amp;rdquo; her companion replied, settling herself with equal ease into her own saddle. &amp;ldquo;It was only luck you beat me last time.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The blonde laughed. &amp;ldquo;I was lucky,&amp;rdquo; she said, &amp;ldquo;lucky you decided to wear loose clothes.&amp;rdquo; Cupping her hands over her smallish breasts, she glanced pointedly at her companion&amp;rsquo;s decidedly larger pair. &amp;ldquo;All of that bouncing around couldn&amp;rsquo;t have been good for your balance.&amp;rdquo;&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Bones In The Dungeon</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/the-bones-in-the-dungeon/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/the-bones-in-the-dungeon/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;The following story was inspired by a book found under suspicious circumstances, but denied to be true by the woman who apparently wrote it:&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;hellip;My friends used to know me as a bookworm, the kind of woman who would rather be in a library or some other place where dusty books were found. I played the part perfectly, thick glasses that I really needed, and I dressed to conceal the body that no serious book collector should have. I had even found a way to make a good living with books, very old books that people of means still traded in for their personal libraries. It is this lust for dusty books and the words contained inside them that led to my present position, and that could one day set me free&amp;hellip;&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Bones In The Dungeon</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/the-bones-in-the-dungeon/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/the-bones-in-the-dungeon/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="bonesinthedungeon.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Bones In The Dungeon&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 2&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;As a young man Henry had read the book many times, but never the last page as a note inside the cover had warned his great uncle not to do so himself. He had snuck the book away from it&amp;rsquo;s hiding place and read it often enough that he knew the lusty story start to end, and it had fueled many fantasies back in the day. He thought he had grown out of those desires when he matured, but he always wondered if the magic of the book was as real as his great uncle had feared.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Bones In The Dungeon 3</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/the-bones-in-the-dungeon-3/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/the-bones-in-the-dungeon-3/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="bonesinthedungeon2.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Bones In The Dungeon&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 3&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Beth and I hung breast to breast in the chains, and I was shocked to hear both heavy dungeon doors slam and the heavy oak draw bars drop into place trapping us inside and Henry out, even if he hadn&amp;rsquo;t left the keys in my cell door. We knew from past experiences that the spirits of the castle could close and lock doors anytime they wanted, and usually in a playful way, but this didn&amp;rsquo;t feel playful to me.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Bones In The Dungeon 4</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/the-bones-in-the-dungeon-4/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/the-bones-in-the-dungeon-4/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="bonesinthedungeon3.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Bones In The Dungeon 3&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 4&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;We had a busy tour day at the castle, and I took many groups around the building and grounds, but again the dungeon was the place that generated the most interest. I was grateful for the activity as it kept my mind off of the announcement Henry was to make at the end of the day, but I eventually found myself seated with the other tour guides in the great room, and I got several looks from them as if to say &amp;ldquo;what are you doing here with us&amp;rdquo;.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Bones In The Dungeon 5</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/the-bones-in-the-dungeon-5/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/the-bones-in-the-dungeon-5/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="bonesinthedungeon4.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Bones In The Dungeon 4&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 5&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;By the time the great wheel had stopped it&amp;rsquo;s noisy rolling, my mistress Beth was long gone. I heard her slam the heavy doors on her way out, and I knew I would be alone for some time, unless of coursemy ghostly dungeon masters decided to visit. I could see very little with the strict position my head was held in other than the iron ring of the great wheel, but there was no mistaking the sound of the ghostly dungeon masters boots as they eventually approached.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Bones In The Dungeon 6</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/the-bones-in-the-dungeon-6/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/the-bones-in-the-dungeon-6/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="bonesinthedungeon5.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Bones In The Dungeon 5&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 6&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I slept like a rock in my cell despite the &amp;ldquo;used&amp;rdquo; way my body felt, and I suspected it would take several days for the marks to fade from my body. I realized I was fortunate not to be permanently damaged by either my Mistress Beth or the muscular man, but perhaps fortune didn&amp;rsquo;t play all that big a part. If I were seriously damaged Henry would notice and realize this was no game between Beth and I, and if she wanted to use me for her own purposes she couldn&amp;rsquo;t hurt me too badly without effecting her plans. If I was to be her show pony, she couldn&amp;rsquo;t treat me too badly without jeopardizing the show, and it was with this new confidence that I addressed her when she came down to collect me several hours later.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Bones In The Dungeon 7</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/the-bones-in-the-dungeon-7/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/the-bones-in-the-dungeon-7/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="bonesinthedungeon6.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Bones In The Dungeon 6&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 7&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I just knew there had to be a catch with Beth wanting to take me out for the day, and then I realized it was October thirty first, Halloween, the one day a year that ghosts and other ghouls can travel freely between this realm and the other. I wondered why she would pick this particular day to take me out and away from the castle. Perhaps it actually was ladies night at the club she spoke of, but with my level of suspicion it could also be one of the clubs she had visited in search of satisfaction at the end of a whip, and ladies night there could be a very bad experience for me. I didn&amp;rsquo;t forget about deceiving her on the great wheel, and I doubt she did either.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>